


Lust in Chains

by Lady_Mairi, Natasja



Series: Sexual Roleplay [1]
Category: RIORDAN Rick - Works, The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Carter and Zia roleplay, DO NOT READ IF UNDERAGE, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I'M SERIOUS ABOUT THAT, Kink, Kink Negotiation, Roleplay Non-con, Safewords, Yes i did it again, except not because it's consenting, ffs why does none of this get mentioned in literature or fanfic?, fine I'll write one where they do it properly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 17:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11902335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Mairi/pseuds/Lady_Mairi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasja/pseuds/Natasja
Summary: Carter and Zia roleplay. Can be read in connection with 'Tribute for the Pharaoh'.





	Lust in Chains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Mairi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Mairi/gifts).



> WARNING: This work contains descriptions of fantasy non-con sex, in the context of kink. If this will be triggering for you, or if you are under the age of consent in your state/territory, DO NOT READ

“I really enjoyed what we did last week.”

Carter couldn’t resist a slight grin, half-goofy and half-smug, which was promptly ruined by the barely noticeable darkening of his cheeks. “I’m glad. So did I.”

Zia hesitated, still a little unsure of how to talk about it. Raised almost entirely within the House of Life, sexuality was not something that had been extensively covered, when it was covered at all. Things like sexual roleplay, the difference between what you fantasized about and what made a healthy relationship… all of those were things that Zia had been forced to look up at an internet cafe, after eavesdropping on several confusing (to her, at least) conversations between her elders. 

Iskandar, the closest she could claim to a remembered father, was the product of a very different time. His stance had been that sex was something that happened between people, but that it would be improper for her to ask questions about or discuss. Carter at least had the benefit of hitting puberty with a father who couldn’t risk the two of them being tied in one place by an unexpected pregnancy, but also keenly felt his failure as an absent parent to Carter’s sister, who had made a point of letting him know how much she blamed both of them for not being there. Julius had been very detailed when he discussed the mechanics with Carter, and even moreso on things like not judging based on sexual preference, the importance of ongoing consent and respect for your partner, in and out of the bedroom. 

Both subject to stereotypes based on their appearence, Carter African-American and Zia Middle-Eastern, both were polar opposites to what most people expected, at least personality-wise. Zia was incredibly lucky to have him. Absently, she took his hand in both of hers, tracing patterns over his palm. “Would you be interested in doing something similar again?”

The risk of an audience was all that stopped Carter from blurting out a very enthusiastic ‘yes!’ Instead, he rose and offered a hand to help her up. “What did you have in mind?”

* * *

 

Explaining what she wanted was harder than Zia had expected. Spoken outside the privacy of her mind, the request to be a helpless captive to his desires sounded foolish at best, if not outright demeaning. Not for the first time, Zia thanked whatever god or goddess had been responsible for bringing Carter into her life. He didn’t laugh or mock, nor did he instantly agree for the sake of getting in her pants.

Instead, he pulled out a soda for each of them, listening intently while he asked her to elaborate on what she wanted and didn’t want. ‘Sexy Interrogation’ was a very broad description, and while Carter found it a very interesting idea, he wanted to narrow down the specifics. He wasn’t comfortable using any hardcore equipment, regardless of whether or not Zia was, and Zia respected that. He didn’t mind tying her up or domination, but drew the line at anything involving blood or bodily fluids. 

Zia enjoyed relinquishing control in the bedroom, but for all her curiosity, the more extreme aspects of BDSM did not excite her. Negotiation didn’t take long, and then it was just a matter of making sure that they wouldn’t be interrupted by well-meaning but curious housemates. 

With the rest of the Nome out at a party, they retreated to Carter’s room. As both Pharaoh and Head of their Nome, Carter had abused privilage to get a room removed from the rest of them, citing the need for personal space.

Finally alone, Carter kissed her, but his eyes were serious. “You remember that whatever I say or call you during the scene, it doesn’t mean that I actually believe it?”

Zia nodded, trusting him entirely. “And if either of us feel uncomfortable or scared at any point, we signal or safe-word, and that is completely acceptable.”

Carter inclined his head, “The signal and safe-word are?”

Zia smiled wickedly. “Rolling my head in a full circle if I can’t speak, or the word ‘kumquat’. At least you can’t mistake that for something yelled in a moment of passion.”

Carter laughed, throwing several locking and privacy spells at the windows and door. The last thing they wanted was someone barging in. Putting his staff aside, he started to unbutton his jeans. “Are you ready?”

Zia sat down on the reclining chair, closing her eyes and growing limp. “As soon as you are.”

She felt her robes vanish, strong hands wrapping cord around her ankles, wrists and elbows, binding her to the chair with her legs spread. It held her trapped, but allowed a wide range of motion for her hips and torso. She heard Carter take a deep breath, before a hand connected lightly with her cheek. “Wake up, bitch.”

* * *

 

The Prisoner opened her eyes, instantly narrowing them at the sight of her Captor. She tugged at her bonds. “I won’t tell you anything. You might as well give up now.”

Her Captor laughed. “On the contrary, you will tell me everything, even things you didn’t know you knew.”

The Prisoner’s sharp retort died in her throat as he ran a blunt nail over her clit. She shivered, and he repeated the motion, sliding the tip of his finger inside her. He tipped the chair backward, looming over her. “What are they planning?”

The Prisoner shook her head, scared and thrilled at the same time. She had been told very little, under the theory that she couldn’t tell what she didn’t know, and a small part of her was very interested in seeing how far he would take his threat. “I don’t know. I was only tasked to find you, nothing more!”

The fingertip inside her was joined by a second, fingering her roughly as his thumb pressed down on her clit. She screamed in combined fear and unwilling pleasure, thrashing in her bonds, and her Captor smirked. “So eager so quickly. Breaking you will be more enjoyable than I thought.”

The Prisoner did not reply, preoccupied with the odd pressure building inside her, finally bursting free in a rush that left her limp and gasping. Still, she eventually rallied. “Don’t be so sure.”

He laughed again, turning away long enough to pick up a device from a small shelf. “You’re already weakening, and we’ve barely started. Another hour, and you’ll be begging, if you’re able to talk at all.”

He turned the device on, letting her see how the phallic-shaped body moved in short, sharp thrusts. Turning it off again and tilting the chair back further, he slid an arm beneath her hips, raising them enough to fit the device beneath her, it’s tip barely brushing her entrance, but still a clear threat. The Prisoner instantly clenched her core muscles when he let go of her, holding her body rigid for as long as she could. Her Captor did not force her down, but returned to his questioning, perhaps hoping that forcing her to split her focus would make her more talkative. “How did the House of Life know where to find me?”

Her strength began to falter, and she decided that this small piece of information could do no harm. “We knew where you would need to go if you were to succeed in your plans, and placed watchers, with instructions to delay you when you arrived there.”

It was an effective strategy, and better yet, one that he had no real way to thwart, if he wanted to achieve his goal. The Prisoner’s smugness was short-lived, however, when he only frowned, rapping a closed fist against her stomach. The impact broke her rigid posture, and gravity did the rest, dropping her down onto device, which re-activated. Ignoring her startled cry, he prompted her again. “That is good to know. What did they plan to do if Sadie or I were captured?”

The Prisoner shook her head, trying not to let the feel of the device, smooth and forceful as it moved inside her, affect her voice or concentration. “I don’t know.”

If she didn’t know better, she would have thought that her Captor was pleased by her inability to answer. He stepped closer, gripping her hair. “Well, if you won’t talk, I’ll just have to find a better use for your mouth.”

He pulled her head forward, guiding her mouth onto his cock. The Prisoner tried to resist, keeping her mouth closed, but he yanked her hair, forcing her lips apart in an involuntary gasp. Before she could close them again, he had dragged her closer, his cock filling her mouth, and she was too busy trying not to gag to even think of biting.

The device between her legs moved faster, making her bounce lightly with each thrust. It was bigger than her Captor’s fingers, uncomfortably so, but the Prisoner’s cries were muffled, vibrating around her Captor’s cock. He groaned softly, moving her head back and forth, offering no respite.

He was not gentle, motivated more by displaying his power over her than by sexual desire, though that may have also contributed. As the device between her legs drove her steadily toward another orgasm, he pulled back to let her breathe. “You’re a cock-hungry slut. Did you let us catch you, knowing that I’d fuck the answers out of you? You wanted your desperate little cunt filled, didn’t you?”

The Prisoner gasped for air, straining to take more of the device inside of her even as she narrowed her eyes at him. Her anger lost it’s affect as she came a second time. “ _Aah!_ Go to Hell, Spawn of Apophis!”

He tugged her head forward again, much more roughly, deliberately making her choke around him. “You first, little slut. Why is the House of Life so intent on stopping me, when my failure would result in their downfall as well?”

She couldn’t have answered, even if she had been so inclined, unable to form words or speak around the thick member plundering her mouth. What sound she could make was unintelligible and wanton, like an animal in rut. “ _Guh, guh, guh, guh. Mmph, guh, MMMPH!”_

Her Captor laughed as fluid gushed over the device between her legs. “So you were enjoying it after all. I’m happy to be of service. _Unh!”_

His cum filled her mouth, but he didn’t let her pull away. Instead, he cupped the back of her head, almost gentle in comparison to his earlier ruthlessness. “Swallow it, little slut. Every drop.”

She obeyed, fearful of what he might do if she didn’t. Her Captor let go of her hair and reached down to roughly squeeze a breast, already beginning to harden before her eyes. He tipped the chair all the way back, so that her feet were above her head, and removed the device, tossing it carelessly over one shoulder. Grasping her hips and pulling her body into an arch, he straddled the chair, yanking her down onto his erection.

The prisoner almost wept at the sensations that coursed through her. The feeling of being stretched open by him fought for dominance with the pleasure, the rightness, of being filled so completely, fitting together as though they were made for each other. Her Captor smirked again, grazing lightly on her neck before raising his lips to her ear. “Which one of them advocated for my death?”

Her heart stopped in her chest, and he punctuated the question with a short thrust, making her breath hitch. “ _Unh!_ I - I don’t know!”

He tugged her hips forward sharply, thumb pressing hard against her clit. It was a warning, as much as stimulation; he could allow her to enjoy the interrogation, or he could make her suffer. The thought sent a tiny thrill down her spine. “Desjardins and one of his advisors! I don’t know who else. Please, no more!”

For a moment, he paused, examining her, and she thought he would relent. Ultimately, her Captor ignored the plea. Reaching down, he freed her ankles, bringing her legs up to hook over his elbows. It spread her thighs further apart as he loomed above her. “Then there is only one other use for you.”  

He ran his fingers lightly over her sides, where she was most ticklish. The Prisoner shrieked and bucked wildly, all that she could do with the way she was currently trapped. Her struggles only pulled him deeper into her lithe body, and his hips rose to meet her in a frenzy of passion. He crushed his mouth to hers, tongue mimicking the motions of his cock as he plundered her mouth. She screamed as much as she could, and he released her lips, cruel amusement in his dark eyes. The Prisoner panted, pulling her head back as much as she was able. “Please, I don’t know anything else! Let me go, I can’t take it! _Aah!”_

Her voice trailed into another scream as a third orgasm ripped through her, easing her Captor’s passage a little. He did not relent. “You’ll take whatever I tell you to take, little slut, and beg me for more. I’m going to break you until all you can think of is how to get my cock back inside your greedy little cunt, again and again and again.”

The Prisoner found her voice in a final surge of defiance. “Never, you bastard!”

It would have sounded a lot more impressive if she hadn’t been breathless, rolling her hips to take him deeper. Her Captor only laughed, nipping over her collarbone and breasts, deliberately marking her. “Never? You’re already my desperate fuck-toy, my willing whore to do with as I please.”

He came inside her, pulling out and kicking the chair back upright. Dark eyes studied her intently, judging her well-being and state of mind. The Prisoner relaxed, thinking her ordeal was over, until her arms were freed and she was dragged to her feet. She nearly fell again, her legs weak and unsteady, as her Captor pulled her across the room and threw her over a table, face down. He delved back inside her, a single finger circling her anus before slipping inside. 

Immediately, she stiffened. “Kumquat!”

* * *

 

Instantly, Carter stopped, pulling away and carrying Zia over to the couch. He wrapped a crocheted throw around her as she sobbed, overwhelmed by the Scene but also so very pleased by it, struggling to reconcile the two extremes. Carter cradled her in his arms, rocking her gently, his voice soothing. “It’s all right, Zia. You did so well, my brave love. It’s over now, you’re safe, nothing can hurt you here.”

Slowly, Zia pulled herself together, letting the love and reassurance wash over her. She focussed on Carter, who had perhaps the harder role as the aggressor, when his natural temperament was so gentle and kind. “How are you holding up? Thank you for being willing to do this with me.”

The choice of words was important, reinforcing that she was a willing participant, despite the Scene. Carter hadn’t had many examples of positive relationships growing up, with his mother dying when he barely remembered her, and grandparents who saw him as an extension of their disliked son-in-law. One of his biggest fears was that he would mess up and hurt her by accident, driving her away.

Carter smiled at her, shy but pleased. “Honestly, that was way hotter than I was expecting. I think I understand why you enjoy it so much.”

Zia laid a hand over his groin, feeling the evidence of exactly how much he had enjoyed it. “Do you want some help with that?”

He matched her slightly saucy grin, “Only if you want to. If you don’t, or if you’re too tired, I can take care of it myself.”

How did every word he said only make her love him more? Zia slid off his lap and onto her knees between his legs. Wrapping her hand around him and slowly pumping, she gazed up at her lover through long eyelashes, her amber eyes soft and loving. “Believe me, it’s my absolute pleasure.”

Her lips closed over the head, sucking hard and winning a strangled groan as her hands went to hold him down. Zia repeated the action twice more before his hips bucked and his cum filled her mouth.

Zia swallowed, tongue darting out to capture the last trickle that had overflowed. Standing, she limped toward the bathroom. “Do you mind if I clean up first?”

Carter shook his head, entirely happy to watch her go. “Be my guest. I need to be able to stand, first.”

Zia giggled as she closed the door behind her. Pharaoh, Eye of Horus and powerful Magician he might be, but it was good to know that she could still leave him weak at the knees. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was fed up of reading BDSM where no-one bothers with things like aftercare, safe words or negotiation. Or worse, portrays them as bad things that mean you don't trust your partner. (Looking at you, Fifty Shades of Bullshit.)  
> Anyway, I decided to write something that portrayed it properly, and got rid of the myths that you don't need safe words if you love each other, consenting once means consenting to everything, and that negotiation and aftercare are un-necessary.


End file.
